Chilling out on my throne, so to speak.
Okay, yeah, so you're holding me and he's pointing that camera at me. So what am I supposed to do now?
Hanging out with my beloved rattle.
Swinging away with Mom.
What are you and why are you looking at me like that?
This is how I exercise in my gym.
Ditto, though with my smiles.
Sometimes my Mom says I dress nicely.
Out with the family for dinner. I'm annoyed that Mom and Dad won't let me emend any Sabaen or Aramaic texts.
Back at home I can once again dress like a punk, to my parents' dismay.
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